


I Bloom (Just For You)

by CapricornBookworm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Domestic Fluff, Draco’s Mom Died, Flirting, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Kissing, M/M, Magic Plants, Minor Character Death, Morning After, Neville is a matchmaker with plants, POV Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapricornBookworm/pseuds/CapricornBookworm
Summary: The mysterious case of the confused house-plant, the pathetically earnest Harry Potter, and the very disgruntled Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 223





	I Bloom (Just For You)

****

Draco had accepted the plant from Longbottom only to get the insufferable idiot off his doorstep.

But now that Draco had been housing the plant for a few weeks, he was beginning to regret it. No matter what magic Draco used or how much water he poured on it, the plant never seemed to grow. Yet, it wasn’t dying either. It was remaining annoyingly alive and Draco had half a mind to chuck the damned thing out the window.

If it hadn’t been a pity gift from when news of his mother’s passing broke, he would have already incinerated it.

****

It was months after the funeral when one bespeckled git showed up on Draco’s doorstep, empty-handed and just as pathetic-looking as ever.

“What the bloody hell do _you_ want?” Draco drawled, leaning against the doorframe and trying to convey an air of effortless superiority sprinkled with exasperation.

Harry scuffed his trainers awkwardly against Draco’s front step, avoiding Draco’s gaze as he spoke under his breath, “Just wanted to come give my respects.”

“A little late for the funeral, aren’t we?” Draco commented with a snarl.

Harry ran an awkward hand over the nape of his neck, “At least I showed up at all…”

If it had been anyone else, Draco would have cursed them out, maybe sent a Stinging Hex for good measure. But this was Harry Potter - golden boy and doer of good deeds - and in many ways Draco’s family deserved that comment. 

After a long pause, Draco simply gave a curt nod. “Would you like to come in - ” Draco began, but before he could finish his question, Harry was stepping across the threshold and settling himself onto the crushed velvet armchair in Draco’s sitting room. 

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” Draco muttered under his breath as he slammed his front door shut.

When Draco turned to join Harry in the sitting room, he was struck by the anxiety that was emanating from Harry in waves. Draco could see the panic in the tense set of his shoulders, the flitting gaze of his eyes, and the rhythmic bouncing of his knee. 

Draco simply couldn’t recall a time that he had ever seen Harry so anxious. He almost felt bad for him. 

Almost.

“Stop your incessant moving, would you? I swear each bounce of your knee is shaking off dirt and dust from your filthy trainers and soiling my custom-made carpet.”

Harry looked up dazedly before the words seemed to register. Then his knee stopped moving abruptly and he ran a hand through his hair, as if unsure of what else to do with his extremities. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

While Harry continued to evade his gaze, Draco rolled his eyes - his impatience getting the better of him, “What the fuck do you want, Potter? Why are you actually here?”

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. He let out a frustrated noise and turned toward Draco, “I just - I wanted to say that I’m sorry. And to share a… a story, if that’s alright?”

Draco nearly smacked Potter across the face for being such an imbecile, “You came all the way to my house simply so that we could have a bit of storytime?!”

“Look, I think it’s something you need to hear. Shit - will you just sit down for two seconds and listen to me?”

For a moment, Draco hesitated. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear whatever information Harry was about to share with him. He already had heard enough about the terrible things his mother had done before the War - the lives she ruined, the people she hurt. Draco got quite enough of that from the Howlers that were sent to him on almost a daily basis. He didn’t need to hear it from Potter too.

But then a glimmer of hope - a ridiculously useless emotion - caught hold of Draco’s heart and suddenly he found himself sitting down across from Harry with a bored expression on his face. “Fine. You have five minutes.”

“Right. Yep. Okay. Well, erm...so -”

“Get on with it!” 

Harry merely rolled his eyes. But then he began talking a bit more coherently, so Draco would call that a win.

“So on the night that I battled Voldemort, -” Draco twitched involuntarily at the mention of _his_ name. He had been avoiding using it, or being around others who had used it ever since his mother’s death. Afterall, despite what the Ministry may believe, Draco knew it was one of You-Know-Who’s remaining followers who killed her. 

“- You know, the night that Hagrid carried my body to the castle?”

Draco took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Well, your mother… she erm, came to talk with me.”

Draco stiffened, his defenses flaring up - Was Potter lying? Was Potter trying to manipulate him? “So you’re saying she just stopped for a fucking ‘chat’ with you in the middle of a goddamn war?!”

“No, it’s not like that. I was… I was lying on the ground, I had just woken up after You-Know-Who killed me and - ”

“...He killed you?!” Draco inquired, half convinced that Potter was going mad. 

“Yes, but that’s not important. What _is_ important is that your mother was tasked with checking to ensure that I had died. But when she walked over to my body, she paused and… she asked if you were still alive.”

Draco fell silent, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. And as much as Draco’s cynical side wanted to think that Potter was full of bollocks and that his mother had done no such thing, there was a stronger part of Draco that was desperate for anything positive to grasp onto.

“Are you sure that she asked you this? You’re sure it was me she asked about?”

Harry nodded, avoiding Draco’s gaze as he ran a hand uselessly through his disastrous hair. “I’m sure of it. I - er - just thought you deserved to know.”

And with that, Harry stood up, dusting off his trousers and walking back to the front door.

As Harry was heading out, he pointed over to the kitchen window, “Nice plant.”

Draco was about to bite out a comment about how he was in no mood for Potter’s dry sarcasm - knowing full well that the plant was nothing to write home about - but when he glanced over at the plant, Draco noticed something remarkable. Not only did it look healthier than he had seen it in weeks, but it had begun sprouting small, red buds. They were actually quite beautiful - mesmerizing almost. 

“What in the - ?” Draco began, but before he could finish, Harry was gone, the door shut behind him.

****

Strangely, over the next week, the plant appeared to… Well, quite frankly, it began to die after Potter’s visit.

Yes, it had seemed to perk up for a while, but soon after Harry left, the buds died out and the plant seemed to droop.

Draco went out and bought special fertilizer, moved it throughout the day according to the location of the sun, and went as far as to subscribe to some Wizard gardening newsletters. 

But no matter what Draco tried, the plant just continued to die.

Weeks ago, Draco would have given anything to chuck the stupid plant into the rubbage bin, but now… Now Draco felt a strange connection to the plant and a desire to keep it alive. It had become symbolic of his mother’s memory, and Draco certainly wasn’t about to let her memories die.

About a week after Harry’s initial visit, Draco received a knock on his door late one Sunday night. 

For some reason, Draco was not surprised in the least to find Harry standing on his doorstep once again. 

“You’re up quite late, aren’t you Potter? Thought you had a curfew of just before sunset.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Ha - Ha, Malfoy. Now move over, I brought Thai food.”

It wasn’t until Harry Potter was actually sitting on the floor of his living room, surrounded by containers of food, that Draco actually registered that Harry had brought them both dinner.

Draco blinked a few times in confusion before settling down on the floor beside Harry and stealing the coconut curry out of his hands. 

They ended up talking for nearly two hours. Topics jumping all over, from an argument about the best Thai restaurant in London, to the weirdest thing they ever saw at Hogwarts, to the candidates running for Minister of Magic. 

And that was how Draco ended up having weekly (and sometimes even more frequent) dinners with Harry _fucking_ Potter.

As Draco continued to care for the damned dying plant, he began to notice a pattern. Whenever Harry was around, the plant seemed infinitely healthier. Sometimes it even sprouted new leaves or tiny flower buds the longer that Harry stayed.

But as soon as Harry left for the night, the plant was practically dead by the following morning.

Draco was perplexed. He began to pay closer attention to Harry whenever he came for a visit. He found himself paying attention to the little details he wouldn’t have otherwise noticed. He began to notice Harry’s smell - a mixture of pine trees, coffee beans, and some sort of cologne. He would pay attention to the colors and fabrics that Harry wore. He even found himself noticing that Harry never wore a wedding ring of any variety.

None of these things had anything at all to do with some pathetic little plant - but Draco attempted to convince himself that they were.

****

On one particular evening, when Draco walked over to open the front door, he found himself taken aback by Harry’s appearance.

Harry typically looked disheveled - in a way that only the bloody ‘Chosen One’ could pull off - but tonight was quite different. Instead of his typical uniform of denims, scuffed trainers, and a jumper, Harry was wearing a white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of sleek, slim-fitting black trousers, a Dragon-hide leather belt slid into the loops, with a pair of black dress shoes and a beautiful navy-blue scarf draped around his neck.

Draco was speechless.

Harry looked - Well, he looked quite gorgeous, actually. Draco had never seen him looking so put together. It was disconcerting (especially because Draco’s heart was suddenly beating unusually fast, and he even found himself feeling self-conscious of _his_ chosen outfit for the evening).

“Alright there, Malfoy?” Harry inquired, an amused look on his face as he unwrapped his scarf, folding it neatly and placing it with his shoes as he toed them off.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly as he caught a truly delicious glimpse of Potter’s arse in those trousers, before reaching to grab the bag of food that Harry had brought with him. “Of course I am, Potter. Why the bloody hell wouldn’t I be?”

Draco didn’t miss the smirk on Harry’s face. Nor did he miss the way it brought warmth rushing to his own cheeks. _Shit_. 

As Draco closed the front door behind Harry and led them into the kitchen, something peculiar caught his eye.

On the windowsill above his kitchen sink, the notorious plant - which had been dead not an hour prior - was suddenly greener than he had ever seen it, the color so vibrant it was shocking. Not only that, a full flower was blooming off to the side. 

“What the fuck?” Draco asked aloud, dropping the bag of food unceremoniously onto the kitchen table and walking over to the window. 

He picked up and inspected the potted plant with immense confusion, his brain whirring as it attempted to explain the sudden and exuberant rebirth. Typically Potter’s presence seemed to bring more life to the plant, but this was far more ‘alive’ than Draco had ever seen it.

“Surprised you kept something alive?” Harry asked, coming to lean back against the kitchen sink beside Draco, his tone bemused.

Draco swatted at Harry’s head blindly, not taking his eyes away from the plant. “Oh, shove off. I’m not in the mood for your idiotic comments this evening. This plant was dead this morning, I swear… ”

“... And you’re… disappointed that it’s not?”

Draco growled in frustration. “You don’t understand! This plant seems to - it changes around - well, it -” Draco stopped himself after a moment. If he told Potter, he would sound insane. “Nevermind.”

“Right. Okay. Well, I brought food, so you better get your arse over here and eat it. I didn’t go all the way to Pentrenelli’s for nothing.”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-You went all the way there, just for me?” Pentrenelli’s was his favorite restaurant. It was something he had mentioned to Harry weeks ago. 

Harry smirked over at him, “Well, I had to see if the food was as good as you said, or if you’re just full of it.”

Grabbing drinks seemed to be a good way to distract himself as Draco processed Harry’s words, and he realized that this - this thing that they were doing? It was basically dating.

Draco’s heart was now thundering out of control, his head spinning while he poured two glasses of Mead with a shaking hand.

“Er, Draco. Your plant is… sprouting?”

Draco shook himself out of his stupor and looked up - watching as a new flower bud grew slowly beside the first, the petals trembling much like Draco’s fingers. 

“Salazar!” Draco exclaimed, wheeling around and taking a long swig straight out of the bottle as he took in the plant. 

It mocked him with its growth and its annoyingly beautiful petals. 

Draco hated the way that something akin to joy settled in his chest as he watched the plant bloom. He hated the way that he could feel Harry’s warmth against his back as he, too, came to observe the plant. He hated the way he shivered when Harry leaned in to rest his chin on Draco’s shoulder, a hand settling casually on his hip, as if it belonged there. Draco hated that another bud began to unfurl, its petals spreading out in a delicate dance.

But most of all, Draco hated that he finally realized what all this meant.

Draco swallowed uncomfortably around the lump in his throat. Meanwhile, Harry hummed in question and squeezed gently at his side, “Any particular reason you yelled at a plant? Or is it just because it’s a Tuesday?”

Taking another swig of Mead, Draco let out a sigh before handing the bottle over to Harry, “It’s a long story.”

Harry took the bottle, but didn’t take a drink right away. “I like long stories,” he said curiously, his breath warm on Draco’s neck. 

Draco tilted his head to the side and considered the plant in front of him. And then he considered the boy behind him. The boy who was no longer a boy, but in fact, a man. A very handsome man.

Draco wondered how they had gone from enemies to… well, to this. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Came a whisper from Harry, his tone equally amused and curious.

And in that moment, with Harry at his back and this ironic love-plant staring up at him, Draco made the decision to stop thinking and just do.

And that is how he found himself whirling around and pressing Harry up against the counter, a hand wrapped snug around his waist, and their faces mere inches away from one another.

Harry let out a chuckle on a rush of air, “If this is what was on your mind, then _fuck_ I am all for it.”

The next few seconds seemed to last an eternity as they leaned in for a kiss. 

Their first kiss.

Electricity sparked off their bodies as they moved closer and closer together. Draco sucked in a breath when Harry’s nose brushed along his jaw, and trembled when Harry’s lips brushed his own with the gentlest touch. 

Kissing Harry made him feel like a teenager all over again. He could not remember the last time he felt so aroused from just a simple brush of lips. He could not recall a time where he ever felt so hopelessly at the mercy of someone else. 

But standing there in his kitchen with Harry in his arms, Draco surrendered to it all. He stopped questioning it and just let himself _feel_. 

As they kissed, it felt as though the equilibrium of Draco’s entire system had been disrupted, the floor shifting beneath his feet, his center of balance becoming inextricably linked to Harry - regardless of where they were in space.

Kissing Harry was somewhat of a dichotomy, because while Draco could intimately feel every shock of arousal racing through his veins, he also felt as though he was floating outside of himself.

He imagined what he must look like, flushed cheeks and swollen lips, his head tilting back on a gasp until his long neck was exposed to Harry’s eager mouth. He imagined the hefty red marks Harry was leaving in his wake - bite marks visible in stark contrast with Draco’s own alabaster skin.

Draco let his hands trail down Harry’s back, tracing his shoulder blades - which felt like suits of armor to his touch. Dragging down the knots of his spine, past the dip of his waist until they settled on Harry’s sleek black belt. 

A pleased hum escaped Draco’s lips as he thought of the pain and pleasure he could inflict on Harry with this one simple item. He wondered how delicious Harry would look with harsh red marks streaking across his arse. 

The thought alone had Draco’s knees weakening, his body threatening to collapse beneath the sheer weight of _arousal_ that Draco was drowning in.

The images and sensations tore around him in dizzying circles, winding together into a blur of _yes, more, fuck me, shit, yesssss…. Harry_.

In a flash of hands grappling at trousers and shirt buttons raining down onto the floor as they were ripped from their seams, Draco suddenly found himself up in his bedroom, nearly naked - save for his pants - his back firmly against his mattress while Harry straddled his thighs, a devious twinkle in his gaze.

“How - I - ”

“Shhhh...” Harry whispered, a single finger tapping lightly against Draco’s lips. 

Draco’s eyes nearly crossed as he looked at Harry's tanned finger, even this one digit making his mouth water. And before he could stop himself, Draco peeked out his tongue and traced it along the seam of Harry’s finger.

Draco felt a shiver cascade through Harry’s entire body.

Letting his eyes fall shut, Draco focused in on Harry’s finger, giving it as much attention and finesse as he would have Harry’s cock.

He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked the finger further and further into his mouth.

Harry let out a sound that was somehow a chuckle, a moan, and a curse all wrapped into one beautiful symphony that was truly music to Draco’s ears.

Draco could feel Harry’s cock growing hard against his thigh, Harry’s hips beginning to tilt just slighting, seeking friction, seeking _relief_. 

And Draco had more than a few ideas of how to coax Harry to a release.

With a quick jerk of his hips, Draco overpowered Harry, reversing their positions so that Harry was now lying on the bed staring up at Draco.

“Where’d you learn that?” Harry asked breathlessly, his pupils dark and cock hard. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Draco teased before leaning down and capturing Harry’s lips in a heady kiss.

As they kissed, they began to grind together, their cocks sliding through the thin layer of their briefs. Draco’s body drank in the heat from Harry as their movements gained in speed.

Draco gasped as the sensitive head of his cock peeked out from under the band of his briefs, his length straining for _more_ , _faster_ , _hotter_. 

Harry gasped as Draco reached down and wrapped a hand around both of their cocks, bringing them impossibly closer. The sensation had Draco feeling light-headed, the pleasure so strong as blood rushed to his cock.

But apparently Harry wanted to go a step further, as he hooked his thumbs into Draco’s briefs and pulled them down below his arse. 

Draco got the message loud and clear, and he pulled down Harry’s own briefs until his cock popped out, slapping down onto his bare abdomen with an audible ‘thwack.’

“God, Potter - so the rumors are true, huh?”

Harry let out a curse as Draco wrapped a firm hand around his bare cock, giving a few long strokes and savoring the slick slide of foreskin with every movement. 

“Wh -” Harry began before letting out a long moan, “- Which rumor? I’m the - _fuck_ \- boy-who-lived, you’re gonna have to get more specific.”

Draco ignored Harry’s question for a moment, far too fixated on what it would feel like to have Harry in his mouth. 

But just before he made his move, he locked eyes with Harry, his mouth practically watering, “The rumor where you are _hung_ as a centaur.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed a deep red and his cock twitched in Draco’s hand.

Draco winked.

He began to shimmy his way down Potter’s body, pressing a kiss to each of Harry’s thighs before grabbing hold of the base of his cock and wrapping his lips tight around the swollen head.

Harry let out a pained noise above him, but from the trickle of precome now running across his tongue, Draco knew that the only pain Harry was experiencing was from pleasure. 

Draco spent the next few minutes losing himself in the sensation of Harry’s cock. He tried to memorize the taste, the girth, the long vein running up the right side. He wanted to immortalize this moment, because, fuck if he ever finds a cock more beautiful than this one. 

A noise registered in the back of Draco’s mind and he pulled his mouth off of Harry’s cock, trying to tune back into the world for a moment. 

“Get up here,” Harry requested breathlessly. 

Draco gave one last suck to Harry’s cock before he obliged. 

“You requested my presence,” Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow at the deliciously disheveled man laid out below him.

“Your mouth is incredible. Now, don’t get cocky on me - ”

“- Never. Wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco replied sarcastically.

“-but this first time… I - I want to come with your lips on mine, not on my cock. Is that alright? I mean - we don’t have to. You can go back -”

Draco cut Harry off with a searing kiss. “Shut up and kiss me, Potter.”

Their mouths fit together like puzzle pieces and their tongues were evenly matched in a duel. With every kiss and every touch, it built a crescendo louder and louder, their releases imminent. 

Draco ground his hips insistently against Harry’s as they moved together in a sort of dance.

“Fuck - Draco - it’s perfect -” Harry gasped out, his hips thrusting wildly and only increasing the fiery heat pooling inside Draco’s stomach.

Draco let out a groan as his orgasm built deep within him, his body just on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” Harry whined, his hands fisted in the sheets beside his head, his lips a deep red from where he had bitten them. “Please, don’t stop. I - I want you. Just like this. Just - _shittttt_ please!”

Hips thrusting together, they were no longer kissing - just gasping into each other’s mouths, exchanging air as their bodies became one, their orgasms building in a synchronized movement, teetering on the edge of it all. 

It didn’t take more than a few more thrusts.

They both shook as they came, bodies releasing with blinding pleasure and an eruption of emotions.

It was everything that Draco had ever wanted, but could never admit outside of his nightly wank. 

It was not enough and yet it was too much. Draco’s body felt just as spent as though they had been fucking for hours. 

Harry appeared to be feeling the same way if his heavy eyelids and slowed movements were any indication.

After removing their briefs and cleaning up with a quick spell, Draco settled into the comfort of his bed, with Harry Potter nestled in his arms.

And for a moment all was right in the world.

****

As the sun broke through the curtains and poured out onto Draco’s naked torso, he began to register that something was different than most mornings.

He registered a warm body pressed against his hip, a hand spread over his heart while drool dried on his shoulder. 

Memories flooded back all in a rush as Draco blearily blinked down at Harry, his face slack with sleep and his scar just peaking through his mess of black hair as he snored softly. It was oddly charming in a way that only Harry could manage. 

Draco laid in bed for a while, simply petting his hands through Harry’s hair until he, too, began to stir. 

As the pair of them got up, there was something quite natural about it all. They showered together as though they had done it a hundred times. They brushed their teeth and then leaned in for a quick brush of lips. Harry cleaned his stubbornly dirty glasses whilst Draco went through his morning skincare routine.

And it all just sort of fit together. 

_They_ just sort of fit together.

After pulling on a pair of silk sleep trousers and lending Harry the silk shirt, Draco pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s forehead. He then let out a wide yawn and began heading downstairs on a mission to start a kettle for morning tea.

As Draco rounded the corner and walked into the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks, Harry sleepily bumping into him after the abrupt stop.

“Whazit?” Harry asked, his voice still rough from sleep.

But Draco did not have time to think about how sexy Harry sounded in the morning, because there was a MOTHERFUCKING _TREE_ growing in the middle of his GODDAMNED KITCHEN.

“What. The. Fuck.” Draco bit out, looking around his kitchen in utter disbelief. 

Draco felt, more than heard, when Harry first saw it because suddenly Harry’s body was shaking with laughter behind him.

Draco shook his head and attempted to unclench his jaw, while Harry laughed his arse off.

“Gonna kill Longbottom next time I see that git - ” Draco grumbled to himself as he stepped over the roots bursting through his previously spotless tiled floors, as he made his way over to the kettle, “Definitely gonna kill him. And then I’ll buy him any fucking plant he wants…” He reached around a branch to fill the kettle up with water and dodged a cluster of flowers as he lit the flame, “Bloody brilliant arsehole.”

“You do realize this is not normal, right?” Harry inquired, stepping gingerly over some roots before perching himself up on the kitchen island, surveying the kitchen with a crooked smile and a laugh still etched on his features. 

“Why, no, Potter. I did not realize that it’s out of the ordinary to have a - a -” Draco paused, gesturing wildly at the flowering monstrosity, “- a sex plant grow into a full tree - overnight! - because I finally had sex with my childhood wetdream. Totally normal!” He exclaimed, his voice cracking at the absurdity of it all.

“Childhood wetdream, huh?” Harry asked, a foot reaching out to pat Draco’s arse as he packed his favorite Earl Grey tea into the strainer.

“Yeah, so what? I know I was yours too, you wanker.”

Harry let out a groan, “Fuck me! - Who blabbed? It was Ginny wasn’t it? Always trying to get me back for the pranks the twins and I used to pull on her.”

A grin spread uninhibited across Draco’s face as he stood, his back toward Harry. He quickly schooled it into a smirk as he whirled around, “The Weaselette didn’t say a word. I guessed and, lucky for me, _you_ are the one who blabbed.”

“You cheeky motherfucker!” Harry let out with a growl as he reached out to grab Draco’s waistband, pulling him in for a rough and passionate kiss. 

They kissed and kissed until their pace grew languid and relaxed, lips moving in a sensual dance, slow and sweet like honey. They kissed until the kettle went off and pulled them from their reverie. 

And so, Draco made the tea, Harry toasted a few crumpets, and the pair of them leaned against the kitchen island, heads cocked sideways as they watched flowers continue to blossom all over the tree. 

“Think it will just keep goin’?” Harry wondered aloud, mouth full of crumpet.

Draco shrugged, “I suppose so. It didn’t exactly come with an instruction manual. But by the way it’s reacted to us, I gather that if we continue… _this_ ,” he leaned over to pull Harry in for a quick, but no less dizzying kiss, “I’m thinking it will keep on doing _that_.”

Right in front of them a new flower burst into existence with a soft little pop! Blood red petals danced before them with orange veins mapping across the delicate surfaces, as leaves blossomed from behind in varying shades of green that reminded Draco unmistakably of the Slytherin house colors. 

Harry took another bite of crumpet and wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist. He hummed for a moment before he spoke, “I’m not mad about it.”

Draco rolled his eyes but a smile spread across his lips before he could stop it. “I’m not either, Potter. Not mad at all.”

****

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Bloom” by Troye Sivan.
> 
> This was an idea I have had for a while. Hope you enjoy it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated.


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